Interludes and Encounters
by mondavis
Summary: In a series of stories set between the episodes, President Roslin and Commander Adama find themselves feeling more than they had anticipated.
1. Not A Friend

Not a Friend

Pairing: Roslin/Adama

Rating: G

Spoilers: Acts of Contrition. This takes place before Starbuck's confession.

* * *

Commander Adama found the President of the Twelve Colonies curled up on his sofa sound asleep.

Granted, he had been late for their bi-daily meeting but that was nothing new. Most of the time one of them was late for these meetings, forcing the other to wait for sometimes as much as an hour. This time, though, he had been nearly two hours late; a record for either of them.

She didn't stir when he closed the door behind him, so he crossed the room to the sofa, unbuttoning his collar along the way.

"Madame President," he said in a normal tone of voice, but it had no effect.

Adama looked down at her. She was lying on her side, hands tucked under her chin, knees drawn up. He noted her shoes sitting off to the side of the sofa and her glasses resting on the table. Her lavender jacket lay across her lower legs and feet, leaving her in the soft, figure-hugging white shirt. Her dark hair fanned out over her shoulder and cheek as she slept.

He knelt carefully beside the sofa intent on waking her. But he didn't. Instead, he found himself just staring at her, musing on his feelings.

Adama was the first to admit that initially, he hadn't liked Laura Roslin. She was a little too polished for his taste and a bit pushy. After the attack and her ascent to the Presidency, he realized that he'd be forced to deal with her. Sure, on the surface, one would think that he held the power. He had all the guns. But civilians were a difficult lot to contend with. They tended not to be particularly amiable to idea of simply following orders as his soldiers did. Civilians asked questions and challenged authority and needed to feel like they were somehow in control of their own destiny even though they weren't. Adama had known from the moment they'd fled the Cylons with 50,000 civilians trailing behind, that imposing martial law would only be a temporary solution to a problem that could grow exponentially in surprisingly little time.

So he had to deal with Roslin. Yes, she was the Secretary of Education, but even Adama had to admit that she had shown a surprisingly strong ability to keep her head in a crisis. She had managed to save tens of thousands and had stood toe-to-toe against his own authority. Adama didn't like being challenged but her guts impressed him and at some point, he'd stopped thinking of her as a school teacher and started believing her to be the President.

But looking at her now as he was, not for the first time, he thought of her as a woman. It wasn't something that he dwelt on, nor was it a burning passion to possess her. It was more of an appreciation of her femininity. He found her to be beautiful. And she smelled good; like some type of unnamed flower. He could smell it now and Adama knew that one day, when she eventually ran out of whatever gave her that scent, he would miss it.

Unbidden, his fingers moved her hair from where it had fallen across her cheek. Still, she slept undisturbed.

Adama knew that she'd been to see Cottle today and though she had woven some tale about having allergies, he knew a lie when he heard it. Something was wrong, something serious. Adama could tell by the look of sadness he sometimes caught in her eyes. She was hiding it well, but he was an astute man and it had become his habit of late to observe her. Something was definitely wrong.

But he didn't have the kind of relationship with her where she would confide in him. Lee probably did but his son was fiercely loyal to his President. Adama knew better than to even ask.

He thought that maybe one day the two of them would find themselves friends and she'd start thinking of him as a man and not just the commander.

But that wasn't today.

Retrieving a blanket from his bed to cover her, Adama decided that he could wait.

The End.


	2. Salutations

Salutationsby mondavis  
Pairing: Laura/Adama  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: You Can't Go Home Again. This takes place some time after the episode but before Litmus.

* * *

Ever since taking command of the _Galactica_, Commander Adama had never been extraordinarily strict on the military protocols outside of CIC. While he expected the utmost discipline from all of his soldiers, he also recognized that his people could do their jobs better if they weren't preoccupied with trying conform to rules that didn't mean a lot in every day life. He would much rather have his people get to where they were going and do what they were doing, than to stop to salute him whenever he crossed their path. Despite this, military training was ingrained in his men and women, it had become the unofficial rule that whenever you personally greeted a superior officer, you saluted. 

So when a young petty officer came across the commander and President Roslin walking through the halls, he paused, said good evening and saluted. Barely breaking his stride, Adama snapped off a return salute. When the young officer remained where he was, still in salute, Roslin realized that she was supposed to follow suit. She quickly returned the salute and the officer moved off.

"I think that will always feel awkward," she said as they rounded the corner to the commander's cabin.

"I'll tell them to stop," Adama said as he allowed her to enter ahead of him. He shut the door behind them.

"No, no," the President told him. "It's protocol. Don't make any special dispensations just because I'm still learning about the military." Idly, she picked up a stray book and then set it back down. "It's part of the office. I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to salute them back," Adama told her as he poured them both a glass of water. "It's a misconception that it is a requirement of your Presidency. It's more of a protocol thing because you're Commander-in-Chief but you're not obligated to uphold it."

She accepted the glass and settled onto the sofa. "Ahh, but I'm not."

"Not what?"

"Commander-in-Chief," she clarified. "You are."

Adama frowned into his glass. "The Articles of Colonization say differently."

Roslin fought the urge to look incredulous and instead settled on amused. "The Articles of Colonization made me President and for good or ill, I ceded Commander-in-Chief to you."

He looked at her with a scowl and she could see that she had gotten to him once again. It was beginning to become fun, this sparing game of theirs.

"For good or ill? What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

She held up her hands to calm him. "Sorry," she said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "Bad choice of words. What I mean is that no President before me has given up control of the military the way I have."

"No President before you has faced the near total destruction of our civilization," he reminded her.

"That's true," she said solemnly. "No one has faced this. My point is that you're extraordinarily powerful; more powerful than any military commander in our democratic history. Whenever you want to, all you have to do is say the magic words: 'it's a military decision' and my hands are tied by my agreement with you."

He looked angry now. "You talk as if I do that indiscriminately. I make military decisions because -"

"No one should be taking orders from a school teacher?" the President supplied tartly.

Adama slammed his glass down onto the table and walked away from her. It was times like these when he really couldn't stand her. After a long moment, he said, "I've given you respect."

She stood and moved a little closer to him, arms crossed in front of her. "Yes."

"And I've acknowledged your authority as President."

"Yes."

He fell silent again and then added quietly, "And I abused our agreement to search for Kara."

The President moved beside him and tilted her head into his view. "Yes." He glanced up and saw that her expression was kind, though.

He met her eyes finally. "It won't happen again."

She smiled at him. "Alright."

Adama turned and retrieved their glasses. As he was refilling them, he said, "Don't curl your hand."

The President frowned at him as she undid the buttons of her jacket. "Pardon me?"

"When you salute," he amended. "Don't curl your hand. It makes your elbow drop; ruins the form."

"Really?" She raised her right hand in salute and realized that he was right. "Ok, so how do I do it then?"

Setting the water glasses on the table, Adama came to stand in front of her. In her high heels, he noticed that she was only slightly shorter than he was. She wasn't wearing her glasses today, so he could look directly into her eyes. They were a curious grey … almost blue and maybe a little green, but mostly grey.

"Commander?"

"Oh," he said quickly, trying to cover his lapse. "Keep your hand straight. Your forearm should be completely in line with your fingertips." She adjusted her arm slightly, but he noted that her arm was still dipping. He moved behind her and ran his hand up her arm to her elbow. "Elbow up here," he murmured into her ear.

Laura fought not to shiver. The man standing behind her was aloof, cold, and most of the time acted as if he could barely tolerate her presence. She was the first to admit that the feeling was completely mutual. He was maddening and sometimes she wanted to throw his ass out of the nearest airlock. Yet there was chemistry between them; low and carefully hidden by both of them but there. She didn't know what it was or where it would lead if left unchecked but she could feel it every time they were in a room together and especially if they were alone.

They weren't friends and maybe they never would be, but they definitely had the potential of being something else. And it was that notion that gave her pause in her dealings with him more than anything else.

Laura was not so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice that he had also fallen silent but had not moved from behind her. She could feel the heat from his body all along her back and his breath blew her hair across her cheek.

Slowly, she lowered her arm back to her side. When she did, her hand slipped almost naturally into his. Her heart thumped.

For his part, Adama was fighting a war. There were no Cylons in this one, though. It was a war between what his head was telling him and what his everything else was demanding. He wanted to pull her against him and nuzzle his face into her sweet-smelling hair. If his feelings before this moment had been a remote appreciation of her general loveliness, now he was beginning to feel the burn. He was a man and she was a lovely woman all but in his arms.

But she was also the President and he was her commander.

And this had to stop. Now.

He heard her take a breath, "Command-"

"You smell good," he blurted gruffly. _Where had that come from_?

He couldn't see her face but he heard her choke off her tiny laugh. He was torn between being angry and embarrassed.

"Thank you." Her soft, sincere tone simultaneously soothed his rancor and quickened his pulse. She turned her fingers until they slipped between his. "You know," she began, "there are bad ideas and there are really bad ideas."

Adama squeezed her fingers and forced his other hand back to his side. It had risen of its own volition to rest lightly at her left hip. "And this is one of the really bad ones," he agreed.

"For so many reasons," she said with a sigh. "If I were just a school teacher …"

"And if I were just a soldier …"

"We'd be doing a lot less talking right now," she laughed and Adama realized that that was one more thing about her that he appreciated. Her sense of humor wasn't as dry and formal as he'd expected. In fact, on the very few occasions where they had been casual enough to joke around, he found her to be downright bawdy. He suspected that after a few drinks the President could probably give Starbuck a run for her money in the dirty joke department.

He laughed with her, briefly but it felt good. With a sigh, he released Laura's hand and stepped away. He headed to the table and picked up his water glass. He guzzled it down, his throat feeling like a desert.

"I guess it would be prudent for me to leave now," the President said quietly. She buttoned her jacket and headed toward the door.

Adama nodded and stepped out into the hallway with her. They walked in silence until they reached CIC, where as was their custom they paused in the hallway before she went on alone, save for her guards, to the shuttle that would take her back to _Colonial One_.

"I want to know one thing," the commander said. "Do you really think that I hold our … agreement over your head?" Given what had just happened in his quarters, he wondered why he chose now to bring this up again but there it was.

The President's eyes narrowed and she spoke very carefully. He noticed that it was a habit of hers when she was trying not to antagonize him. It was like she was gentling an animal that could attack at any moment.

"I believe you use our agreement to your advantage when you think that it's right." Her voice was quiet but firm. "The problem is when _I_ don't think you're right."

Adama nodded. He had guessed as much. "We'll have to work on that." She nodded to him and turned to leave but he stopped her, his voice booming in the corridor.

"Madame President."

When she turned back to him, Commander Adama pulled himself to full attention and saluted her. Behind him, most of the CIC staff had turned and were also standing in full salute.

With a soft smile on her lips, the President executed a perfect return salute to her commander and his command staff.

"You learn fast," Adama said as she turned to proceed down the corridor.

"Yes, Commander, I do," she called back over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

The End.


	3. Soft Touch

Soft Touch  
By  
mondavis  
Disclaimer: I don't own em, I'm just using them.  
Pairing: Laura/Adama  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Litmus. This takes place after the episode but before Six Degrees of Separation.

* * *

"So are you going to say it or what?"

President Roslin flicked her glasses onto the table and raised both arms above her head in a long stretch. "Say what?" she asked sweetly.

Adama fought the urge to stare at her. She was wearing that silky purple top that clung to her chest most distractingly. "'I told you so.'"

"And why would I say that, Commander?"

Adama sighed huffily and rubbed his left shoulder. "The Tribunal," he said a little testily. "I'm sure you can't wait to say 'I told you so.'"

The President dropped her arms back to her lap and reached again for her glasses. "Ahh. No, actually I'm not going to say that," she told him lightly. Her lips curved into a little grin. "Though, I was thinking of making a recording of me saying it so that you can play it whenever you need to. It's so often, it seems." She finished with a grin.

Adama scowled at her and went back to reading his reports. "Cute."

"I'm sorry about Specialist Socinus, though," she said putting her glasses back on her nose. "He didn't leave that hatch open."

Adama looked up at the woman sitting across from him and frowned. "How do you come to that conclusion?"

She regarded him with what he referred to as her "school teacher" look. "Your people aren't that irresponsible. That causeway led directly to a munitions locker. After what happened to the water tanks, I would assume that you've had everything locked down around here." She settled back against the sofa and looked back down at the report in her hand. "You may be a 'soft touch' but you run a tighter ship than that." She paused. "At least I _hope _so, or we're all fracked. Regardless, Socinus was covering for Tyrol and Valerii."

For a brief moment, Adama considered asking her how she managed to correctly deduce all of this but then decided it was pointless. She'd only get all coy on him and he hated it when she did "coy". He rubbed his shoulder, trying to work out the kink there. He amused himself with the thought that the headache he was developing was all _her_ fault.

He decided to elaborate. "They were together at the time of the bombing."

"So there's still a Cylon or a Cylon conspirator on board_ Galactica_," the President concluded. Giving up on reading the report, she tossed it back onto the table. "Well, that's just great."

Adama nodded and tossed his own report on top of hers. He noted that the pile of papers between them was probably big enough to cover every inch the ship's hull. Maybe twice.

"Yeah, well, we should be able to start screenings soon," he grumbled, rubbing at his left shoulder. "Now that Baltar's finally gotten off his ass and is working on the detector."

"What's the matter with your shoulder?" the President asked him.

He sighed. "When the bomb exploded, Tigh threw me to the deck … guess I hit it the wrong way."

"Is there a right way to hit the deck?" she queried with a grin. She rose from her seat and came to join him on the sofa. "Take off your jacket and turn around," she ordered. She kicked off her shoes and hiked up her skirt a little to kneel on the cushion. "Turn around," she repeated again with a twirl of her finger when he continued to sit and stare at her.

Adama shifted on the sofa so that he was sideways with the President behind him.

"Jacket," she said plucking at the fabric with her fingers. He undid the fasteners and shrugged out of it so that he sat in his grey t-shirt in front of her.

As Laura set about her task, Adama winced in pain. "Ow!"

"Oh, stop whining," the President chided. "Of course, it hurts; the muscle is bunched. Deal with it."

Adama scowled even though he knew she couldn't see his face. Gritting his teeth against the pain she was inflicting on his shoulder, he wondered why he was so intrigued by her. Laura Roslin was the biggest pain his ass had seen in at least a decade and yet he found himself eagerly anticipating these meetings of theirs; reveling in the nearly hostile banter they sometimes engaged in.

And then there was that alluring scent …

"Did you hear me?" she asked. She sounded exasperated as her hands continued working the knots out of his shoulder.

"What?" he growled.

"I asked you if it still hurts?"

He closed his eyes and assessed. Actually, it felt damned good now. He wasn't sure if it was because she had succeeded in working out the knot or because the pain receptors in his shoulder were completely fried. Regardless, what he felt now was the kneading of her slim fingers against his tired muscles and the gentle palpitation as they relaxed.

"It feels good," he murmured, eyes drifting closed. "You have strong hands."

Satisfied that his shoulders were good, she moved up to his neck and tried not to think about the fact that his skin was much softer than she had anticipated.

"I used to do this for my mother," she told him quietly. "It helped to relax her after-"

Laura broke off, annoyed with herself for almost saying too much. She knew that Adama suspected something was going on that she wasn't telling him. She would catch him looking at her carefully sometimes and he would say little things; asking after her health and if she had gotten enough sleep. She dodged him always, but Laura knew that if she brought up her mother's cancer, he would soon figure out that the secret Laura had been keeping from him was her own.

His eyes opened. "After," he prompted.

"She used to get terrible headaches," she told him, opting for partial truth. "Massages would help."

"Was she still on Caprica during the attack?"

"No, she died a long time ago."

"Did you have any other family?"

"No. There's no one." Her thumbs massaged behind his ears while her fingers cradled his jaw on either side.

"Husband?" he asked casually. Too casually.

Interesting. She grinned. "I never married, but I do think you already know that, Commander."

"Why?" he asked, letting her pull his head back to rest against her chest. The stretching in his achy neck muscles felt good.

"Never found the right man," Laura told him curtly, closing the subject. "Why do you still wear your wedding ring? I know you were divorced from Captain Apollo's mother."

Unconsciously, Adama twisted the band around his finger. "Habit, I guess," he told her. "It wasn't like there was any chance we'd get back together. Ow!" She'd hit the tender spot where his head had hit the deck along with his shoulder.

"Sorry," Laura murmured. "I have another question."

"You seem to be full of them," he put in.

She ignored him. She did that a lot. "Tyrol and Valerii. Why did you let it continue if it was against the regs?"

Adama sighed. He'd asked himself that many times.

"At the time, their relationship wasn't hurting anyone. They were professional about it, even though she outranked him."

The President's hands slipped from the commander's head back to his shoulders. "That's admirable of them," she began softly, "to be able to maintain a romantic relationship and not let it get in the way of their jobs."

"Yeah," was all he said in return as the "thing" that was between them slipped quietly into the room.

Laura marveled at how the two of them could carry on a conversation and argue and even joke sometimes without a thought to any feelings between them other than stress, irritation, and amusement. But then something unseen would change and more and more lately they found themselves where they were right now.

Charged.

From her knees to her chest, everywhere his body was currently touching her own, felt electric. Her hands slipped over his shoulders and down his chest as if they had minds of their own.

"We're back at the bad idea," the commander said softly.

"I know," she said, pressing her hands flat against the muscles of his chest. She was somewhat surprised at the definition she found there. His jacket hid a lot. "How do we always get here?" she wondered aloud.

"Probably because we try to ignore it," he returned huskily. Under her palm, she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She was sure he could probably hear hers, given the current location of his head.

"I don't think - I want you to know - uh -"

He chuckled. "I don't think I've ever heard you be this inarticulate."

She laughed with him. "You have that effect on me."

"You don't want to know the kind of effect you have on me," the commander returned in a low voice.

Laura closed her eyes and bent until her forehead was resting against the top of his head. His hair smelled clean, like the rest of him.

"We need to address this, don't you think?" she whispered. "We've tried ignoring it. Maybe we should talk about it before we make a horrible mistake."

Adama was quiet for a long, long moment. Under her hands, she could feel his uneven breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and the thunder of his heart beating inside.

Suddenly, he pulled away, nearly causing her to fall over as she had been leaning on him. But he turned quickly on the sofa and caught her as she slipped forward. Her hands ended up back on his chest, but this time they were nearly nose-to-nose with his hands gripping her hips.

"Commander?"

"Madame President," he began, his voice lower and rougher than she'd ever heard it. "If we're going to talk, you need to stop touching me, right now."

A shiver raced up her arms, down her spine and settled low in her belly at the sound of his voice and the look of pure lust in his eyes.

But he was right. Over the past several days, they had danced close to the line; now they were damned near _on top _of the line and they needed to stop this before it got out of hand. Before they couldn't go back …

With a deep breath, Laura pushed at his shoulders and scrambled off the sofa. She took long steps away from him. She dared not look back at him.

Adama's head dropped into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. It had been years, _years_ since he'd felt this randy, this damned out-of-control for a woman. Part of him reveled in the feeling he hadn't had since the days of his youth, before he married Caroline. It was back when he had been a war hero who could conquer any woman he fancied. That period of indulgence hadn't lasted for long, only a couple of months really before he tired of it, but it had been a wild ride while he was on it. This heat sizzling through his veins right now, the lust he felt for Laura Roslin harkened back to those days. And the more of these "encounters" they had, the less control he had over himself. She didn't seem to be fairing much better. It was only a matter of time before they did something that they couldn't take back.

"Maybe we should have Captain Apollo or Tigh sit in on our meetings," the President suggested, lightly.

Adama looked up at her. She was still facing away from him. "A chaperone?"

"Well, it seems like we're in need of one," she snapped. Almost immediately, she turned around with an apologetic expression on her face.

"I feel like a damned teenager," Adama said with a sigh. "Except if I were a kid, I'd do what I want to do and say frack the consequences."

She frowned. "You know, we keep talking about consequences. What are they, exactly?"

He looked at her incredulously. "I think you know!"

"Look, I'm not trying to think up ways to justify this," she said reasonably. "I just think we should weigh the pros and cons of the situation, then figure out how to proceed from there."

"Pros and cons?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Pro …" He stood and looked over at his bunk. Her eyes followed his. They both swallowed hard.

Flustered and blushing, Laura cleared her suddenly congested throat. "Okay. Let's move on to the cons."

Adama nodded. "_Con_: professional impropriety. You're the President. I'm your military commander. Like it or not, that makes you my boss."

She gave a short, derisive laugh. "Not that you'd ever act like it."

He glared at her.

"So it's fine for Chief Tyrol and Lieutenant Valerii but not for us?" she asked him, folding her arms over her chest.

"You cannot be using them as a precedent for this. Look how that turned out," Adama reminded her.

Laura nodded with a sigh. "Okay. I acknowledge it would be ten times as bad with the two of us. I do think that we're both professional enough to keep it from affecting our jobs. I don't think we'd be so distracted by each other that we'd harm the fleet." She paused and looked at him expectantly. After a brief moment of consideration, he nodded his agreement. "But to some extent, you and I check and balance each other. If I do something crazy and dangerous, you've got the guns to stop me," she continued introspectively. "By the same token, if you over-step your bounds and try to depose my government, I'll shoot you myself –"

"I'm sure," Adama interjected drily.

"I doubt that would change if we … you know …"

"Played bounce and tickle?" he teased, laughing. Given the nature of the discussion, he found it funny that she would be shy about calling a spade a spade.

Annoyed at being laughed at, Roslin's nostrils flared. "I doubt that would change," she repeated with narrowed eyes, "if I fracked you into next week."

Adama laughed outright and tipped his head to her, acknowledging that once again, he'd failed to get the better of her. Boy, she was a competitor. It was another thing about her that made him tingle below the belt.

Despite herself, she smiled at him broadly. "This is silly. We're adults. We should be able to handle this. I mean it's not like we're not falling head over heels in love - " she paused and looked horrified for a moment. "We're not, are _we?"_

The commander shook his head and held up his hands. "No, no, no, no, _no_!" he said. "I'm not! Are you?"

"Hell, no! No way!" she shot back, frowning furiously. "I barely like you."

"Feeling's mutual."

They paused and stared at each other before they burst out laughing.

"This is one of the most bizarre conversations I've had in a long time," Adama said with a grin. "It ranks right up there with 'we need to start having babies.'"

The President laughed and ran her hands through her hair. "And who, pray tell, told you that?" she joked.

"Someone wise," he returned. The look in his eyes turned affectionate.

Laura smiled back at him warmly. "I guess you were right. Talking this to death isn't going to help, either."

"No."

"So."

"So."

He found himself taking her in as she stood in front of him. His eyes started at her bare feet and moved up to her long legs to where they disappeared (sadly) under her skirt, to the slim hips, flat tummy; the curve of her breasts, slender neck, up to the lips that looked so kissable and the darkening greenish eyes.

In his mind, he was already on her; kissing her mouth, caressing her breasts, parting her thighs…

In reality, he stood rooted to the deck, staring at her lustfully.

"See?" Her voice was husky, nearly hoarse. "We've got to do something about this - "

Adama took a step toward her. "There's only one thing we _can _do." He took another step. He knew it was wrong, he knew that the consequences would be dire. But right now he didn't care. She was right. They were adults. They could muck through the aftermath later. Much later. "Maybe if we just once …"

Amazingly, she seemed to pick up his crazy train of thought. "If it's just curiosity … lust … it would be gone …"

He came within an arm's distance of her, close enough to smell flowers. He reached out -

- and abruptly drew his hand back as the door to his cabin flung open.

Colonel Tigh entered, followed closely by Apollo. Both newcomers stopped short when they saw the two people in the room, but if they had any questions about why the commander wasn't wearing part of his uniform and the president stood barefoot, both knew better than to ask.

"We're sorry to interrupt your meeting, Madame President," Tigh said. "But Commander, you're needed in CIC."

Reining in his conflicting emotions, Adama nodded and retrieved his jacket from where he'd tossed it on the table.

As he shrugged into it, he said, "Madame President, we'll talk later." He moved to stand in front of her as he did up his buttons.

Clearing her throat, Laura looked at his face but not into his eyes. "Actually, Commander, I think we're done for the day. I'll have Billy schedule another meeting later in the week."

Adama narrowed his eyes at her but gave a small nod and left with Tigh.

After he was gone, Apollo looked at her with concern.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?"

She forced a tight smile. "I'm fine, Captain Apollo."

"Were you two fighting again?"

Laura gathered her jacket from the sofa and bent to put on her shoes. She placed her glasses on her nose and turned to look at him at last.

"Your father and I are having some issues relating to each other," she said evenly.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

The President shook her head with a laugh and headed toward the door. "No, Captain Apollo," she said ruefully. "This is definitely something the Commander and I will have to work out by ourselves."

The end.


	4. Until Then

Title: Until Then  
Disclaimer: All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore, Larson and Universal and are used without permission.  
Pairing: Roslin/Adama  
Rating: PG  
Series: Interludes and Encounters; follow up to "Not a Friend", "Salutations", and "Soft Touch."  
Spoilers: 6 Degrees of Separation. This takes place during and just before the very end of the episode.

A/N: I wrote this after I saw "6 Degrees of Separation" but I wasn't happy with it until after I saw "Flesh and Bone". I realize that with this series I'm treading on dangerous territory because of the events in the show. I'm trying very hard to write plausible scenarios for this relationship that fits into the actual episodes. Thus far, I've been using the episodes as a guide for where to take this (part of the reason why they haven't hit the sheets yet). For those of you who know what's coming up, yes, I have been spoiled for eps 12 and 13, so I do know the road will get bumpy, but I've actually already started writing a sketch of that forthcoming angst-o-rama. Enjoy this one.

* * *

"Madame President?" Billy said cautiously, "Commander Adama is on the line again and uh, ma'am, he says if you don't take the call this time, he's coming over." 

Laura Roslin sighed heavily and pushed herself into a sitting position. Truthfully, she hadn't been avoiding the commander. The shot Cottle had given her had made her nauseous and overheated. Right now, all she wanted to do was rest before she had to lever herself up and perform for the press to prove that she was alive and in command of her faculties. She hadn't been taking _anyone's _calls, not just his.

Still, she supposed he wanted an explanation of what had happened and she hated to admit it but she probably did owe him one, so she told Billy to send the call through.

Laura took a sip of water and a deep breath before she picked up the phone. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"You been avoiding me?" he asked gruffly.

"Not at all, Commander. As you may have heard, I've been indisposed."

"Collapsed?" His voice was softer this time. "Are you alright?"

She smiled a little at his obvious concern. "Major Cottle has put me back together again. I'm fine."

"Cause?"

Something deep inside of her wanted to tell this man the truth. It was a part of her that was so tired and weak from fighting alone. He was strong. Couldn't she let him carry her just for a little while? Just for a moment.

But it was the President who spoke and presidents couldn't afford to be tired and weak.

"Stomach flu," she said.

Adama was quiet for a long, long moment on the line until finally he said, "One day and it _will_ be soon, you're going to tell me the truth about this, Laura."

She felt as if all the air were sucked forcibly out of her lungs. She didn't know if it was the hurt in his tone, the soft demand in his voice, or the fact that he had used her name for the first time since she'd known him but she suddenly felt flattened.

Swallowing heavily, she struggled to find something to say and was relieved when he spoke again.

"I'll let you rest."

"Thank you, Commander," she choked out.

"Madame President." The line went dead and with a shaking hand she replaced the receiver in the cradle.

She put both hands on her sweaty face and willed herself to keep it together. Her stomach was roiling, so she sunk down into the cushions.

Laura hated this. She felt sick and stupid and angry with herself for overdosing in the first place. She didn't know what made her do it, except that at the time she wanted so desperately to be well. Everyday, she tried not to think about dying but everyday, death was around her. She stared at the whiteboard with ever-more diminishing hope each time she or Billy subtracted two or three or ten …

She wanted to be strong for them, to give them something to live for. Adama had been right about that; it wasn't good enough to just exist. She knew that herself, because while she fought to beat the cancer, she knew she wasn't doing it only to survive. Laura fought to live because she felt that the people needed her.

A knock at the door made her look up. Captain Apollo came through the curtains with an uncertain look on his face.

"Madame President?" he said walking slowly toward her "bed". "I came as soon as I could. Are you alright?"

Despite her initial annoyance at being bothered again, she smiled. "I'm doing okay," she told him softly. She put her head back down on the pillows. "I was stupid. I took too many pills."

Lee sat down in the chair near the bed. "But is everything okay now? You're not… worse or anything, right?"

Laura smiled and reached for his hand. She squeezed his fingers when he gave it. "I'm okay, Captain Apollo."

He looked relieved and held her hand tightly for a brief second before releasing it. "Have you talked to my father?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, just before you came."

"He was upset when he heard you'd passed out," Lee said frowning. "He doesn't know about the – about your illness and I think he was worried."

The President smiled. "Probably because without me, he'd have to deal with the civilians on his own."

Lee chuckled. "That's probably it, ma'am." After a moment, his smile faded.

"Is there something else, Captain Apollo?"

The pilot frowned again and seemed to be considering something. Finally, he said, "Madame President, I think you should tell my father the truth."

Taken aback, Laura sat up. She breathed deeply against the nausea. "Why?"

"Because, ma'am, I think he could help you," Apollo said carefully. "You could lean on him if you needed to –"

"No," Laura said emphatically.

"Madame President, if you'd only reconsider," Lee pushed. "If the commander knew, he might be more reasonable –"

"What is it about 'no' did you not understand, Captain Adama?" Laura's words were slow, deliberate and cold as space. "I will _not_ have anyone pity me, least of all that man." She felt as if her spine were on fire and it fueled her anger.

And her fear. It all came back to her fear.

There were many reasons why she didn't tell the commander about the cancer. At first, it had been because he was an adversary and she couldn't trust him not to use it against her in some way. But now, having gotten to know the man a bit and understanding his sense of honor, she knew that he wouldn't do that. He would find it beneath his standards. Now, she had to admit that the primary reason why she didn't want him to find out was because of the attraction between them. Would he still want her if he knew that she was sick? Would his eyes burn for her body if he knew that her breasts were defective? The thing that was between them might never come to anything but while it lasted, it felt _good_. In the middle of everything, this man desired her. Would he even want to touch her at all if he knew that she'd probably be dead inside of a year?

Wanting to be alone, she dismissed Apollo.

"Madame President –"

"You are dismissed, Captain!" It wasn't a scream but it held all the authority she could muster at the moment.

And it was enough. Apollo stood and saluted briskly before leaving as quickly as he could.

After he'd gone, Laura once again sunk back into the pillows. When the tears came, she didn't have the energy to fight them.

* * *

The next day, the President and Commander sat in her private room going over the latest set of reports. He'd insisted on having the meeting on _Colonial One_ despite the fact that she was feeling quite good. Not wanting to argue, she'd given in and they'd set about discussing their business. When they got to the topic of Baltar's exoneration, the President frowned. 

"You're not sure if he is completely innocent, are you?" Adama asked carefully.

She put her head back on the cushions and looked up at the ceiling. "You know, I don't know how to explain it –" She sighed.

"Try."

She raised her head to look at him. "It's a feeling. I have a feeling that there is something that he's hiding. I don't believe that he conspired with the Cylons willingly or knowingly but I _know_ that he was involved somehow."

Adama stared at her as he considered this. Then he let out a long breath. "Well, the evidence now says differently."

"I know," she said with a shrug.

"Conveniently," he added. "This whole thing with Shelley Godfrey, all of it has been very convenient."

"Yeah," Laura agreed. "Shelley Godfrey … what made you suspect her all of a sudden? I thought that was odd when I read the report."

Adama frowned and cleared his throat. "All of it was suspicious," he evaded.

Eyes narrowing, Laura Roslin smelled an obfuscation. Interesting. She'd never known him to avoid any subject. In fact, he seemed almost embarrassed.

Containing her sudden glee, Laura fought hard not to grin.

"Yes, but after you met with her privately, you seemed to immediately suspect her," she said lightly. "It just seems a little odd."

Looking uncomfortable, Adama stood and turned to gaze out the window. "She… kissed me," he reported in a tight voice.

Laura's eyes widened in surprise. Of all the things he could have said, she hadn't been expecting this.

"Kissed you?"

"Yes."

"On the mouth?"

He turned and looked at her with irritation. "On the mouth."

Laura wasn't sure what to say to that. Her mind had immediately started picturing it, though. The leggy Miss Godfrey pressing her lips to the Commander's … And how far did it go? Did he immediately push her away and call in the Marines or did he respond to her? Had he wrapped his arms around the tall blonde and pressed his body to hers? Laura wasn't sure if she liked the way that image made her feel.

Because it felt very much like jealousy and under the circumstances, she had absolutely no right to feel it.

"Uh, well," she said quietly, reining in her wayward thoughts. "She kissed you. And you suspected her after that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she kissed me."

Laura let out a laugh. "Commander, if you suspect every woman who finds you attractive then I guess I'm lucky you haven't had me arrested."

As soon as she said it, she cringed because with her careless comment, she'd brought "it" back.

The air was thicker now than it had been just a moment before. His eyes had darkened as he turned to face her and her heart had begun that now familiar pounding that occurred so often in his presence.

Laura stood and crossed her arms in front of her. "And did you like Miss Godfrey's kiss?" she asked casually. _Might as well_, she reasoned.

Adama smiled a little as he walked slowly toward her. "Actually," he began, "it didn't do it for me."

The president's eyebrow rose. "Ah, and, um, what was wrong with it?" She tried not to sound as breathless as she felt as he stopped almost within her personal space.

But all those efforts disappeared on his next words. "She wasn't you," he said simply and grinned at Laura's surprised gasp. He reached out and touched her hair with two fingers. "I'm going to go now."

"Why?" she blurted out inelegantly. Her cheeks colored.

Still rubbing her hair between his fingers, he looked deeply into her eyes. "Because you make me breathless." His fingers left her hair. "And because you've got a press conference in five minutes."

Her eyes widened. She checked her watch. "Damn!" She hadn't realized it had gotten that late. She pulled on her jacket and turned to check her reflection in the mirror. Satisfied, she turned back to him. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

She offered him her hand. "We don't have great timing."

He squeezed her fingers. "We will one day."

Laura smiled.

Holding her eyes, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Until then, Madame President."

Blushing furiously again, Laura swallowed hard. "Until then, Commander."

* * *

End. For now. 


	5. A Doubt onto Itself

A Doubt onto Itself

Disclaimer: All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore, Larson and Universal and are used without permission.  
Pairing: Laura/Adama  
Rating: Teen (damned MPAA!)  
Spoilers: Flesh and Bone. This takes begins at the final scene between Roslin and Adama.  
A/N: As with "Until Then", I held this back until I'd seen Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down.

* * *

"Hell of a risk you took today," Adama commented quietly. He glanced up at the woman sitting across from him. She was wearing her glasses, veiling her eyes. Dimly, he wondered if he really needed them or just used them as a convenient shield. He'd seen her reading numerous times without them.

"It was something I had to do," she replied softly.

Adama's eyes narrowed a bit. Something she had to do? When he'd heard that she'd gone over to the _Geminon Traveler, _he'd been shocked. And after he'd read the Marines' report about what had happened when she got there, shock didn't begin to cover the range of his emotions. The report was detailed and Adama found the blow-by-blow to be startling. He was angry that she's gone over there, taking such a great risk with her life. As he read further, he'd felt admiration that she'd been able to get the Cylon to talk at all. He'd been tense as he read about how Leoben Conoy had lunged at her, capturing her in a tight embrace. It had whispered something into her ear, something that had made her react. When she pulled away from it, she'd appeared unsettled and shocked. And then she'd ordered it put out the airlock. When Starbuck argued, the President held firm and the Cylon was blown out into space.

That had made Adama feel a bit of awe. According to the Marines' and Starbuck's reports, the President had not hesitated in destroying the Cylon once she'd gotten what she wanted from him – _it-_despite having promised that it would live. His estimation of Laura Roslin rose a few more notches. She definitely wasn't the out-of-her-depth schoolteacher he'd met three and half weeks ago. Not anymore.

Somewhere along the line, she had become a president.

And because of that, it wouldn't do for her to take unnecessary risks with her life. Adama had no doubt that Conoy could have snapped her in two before the Marines even got off a shot. He suspected she knew that, too, so he wasn't going to beat her over the head with how foolish it had been to get as close to the thing as she had. Regardless, he did want to know why she felt she had to go over there in the first place.

"Care to tell me why?" he asked.

"President Adar once said that the interesting thing about being a president is that you don't have to explain yourself to anyone."

She smiled at him after she said it and he could tell that wasn't going to tell him anything further and it was useless to push. He was beginning to be able to read her well; the things she said, what she didn't say and the subtle tones of her body language. Right now, she was radiating "Drop it"- vibes.

Inwardly, he chided himself for studying her too much.

Outwardly, he smiled and tipped his glass to her, acknowledging that she had a right to her secrets. For now.

Something passed across her face and even through her glasses, he could see that her eyes were troubled.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

And just as quickly, she covered herself with a mask. "No," she said shaking her head slowly. "Nothing at all."

The small, fake smile had returned. It was a sugary turn of her lips and it set his nerves on edge. There is was: the "politician polish" that he hated in her. He didn't know her well enough to know the exact purpose behind it, but he knew a stonewall when he saw one. He sighed and looked back into his glass. Maybe they needed a change of subject.

"Has the woman aboard the _Arilon Way_ given birth yet?" The question was light and safe. He knew he'd chosen well at the way she relaxed. This time when she smiled it was completely genuine.

"No, not yet," the president said. "She's due any day, though."

"That would make two babies since we left," he said easily. "Not bad."

"You know, I went to see the baby that was born on the _Rising Star_ last month." She plucked her glasses from her nose and took a drink of water. "Do you know what they named him?"

He shook his head.

"William."

Adama was surprised and a little pleased. "I hadn't realized."

She smiled at him softly. "I know. They said they did it because they want their son to grow up to be a great man, so they gave him a great man's name."

He could feel his cheeks heating. "I'm honored," he told her. "I'll try to make some time to get over there to see them."

"You don't have to –"

"I know, but I want to."

She nodded and seemed pleased with this. After a moment, she said, "Have you thought about how you're going to handle pregnancies among the crew?"

"There aren't any that I know of," he replied.

"Perhaps not yet, but eventually we're going to have to address the restrictions against fraternization. People need to be encouraged to come together if we're going to increase our numbers."

He grinned and couldn't help himself. "Is that what we're doing? Coming together?"

Her cheeks colored furiously but she recovered quickly enough. "Not yet."

The double entendre made a flame of lust ignite in his belly and he remarked to himself yet again how difficult it could be to keep up with her mercurial swings of temperament. It never ceased to amaze him how a woman so coolly composed on the outside could flip through emotions as rapidly as one would through wireless channels. Five minutes ago, she'd been aloof and troubled and hiding behind her political mask; now she was flirting and giving him a smile that he wanted desperately to kiss from her lips. It was maddeningly unpredictable.

But also fortuitously welcomed.

Abandoning his glass, he stood and walked around the table toward her. She looked startled as he approached and held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, she took it and stood.

As always, she smelled like flowers and the scent enveloped him as he stepped in closer, still holding her hand in his firm grasp.

Her eyes widened and she felt the familiar thickening of the air around her. His hand was warm, almost hot, as it held onto hers and he was standing so close.

Leoben Conoy's words echoed faintly in her ear. _Adama is a Cylon._

Rationally, Laura knew as soon as the thing had said it that it was a lie. In her heart, she knew it. She had felt it as much as she had felt that Baltar was somehow involved with the attack. Intellectually, it didn't even make sense. If William Adama was a Cylon, then what of Lee? Also, thus far, the Cylons' infiltration had been of people who weren't noticeable. Each of the two models they'd seen so far were nondescript individuals. Shelley Godfrey, if she was a Cylon, was remarkable to look at but even she was able to operate without drawing too much attention to herself. Wouldn't the commander of a Battlestar be too high profile? They would only be able to have one copy to avoid questions. And if Cylons had placed an infiltrator that high up in the military, that this Battlestar was the one to survive was too coincidental. No, it was all a lie. It had to be. It didn't make sense.

But … _Adama is a Cylon._

Laura closed her eyes briefly and willed the voice away. Besides, she would feel if something were wrong with him, wouldn't she? Her instincts had always been remarkably good; even President Adar had commented about it. He'd often looked at her funny but that hadn't stopped him from being the happy beneficiary of her uncanny advice through the whole of his political career.

Lately, her feelings had been stronger, sharper and more certain. If Adama were a Cylon, Laura was absolutely confident she would feel it.

Or was it that she just didn't want to believe it because she wanted him so badly? Increasingly, he'd occupied her thoughts. Initially, the feelings that she had for him were purely physical – she found him to be magnetic. She enjoyed being in the room with him, even when they fought. Laura found herself staring at him almost every time she saw him. Her eyes would discover something new, some interesting feature of his face or a new expression. She'd been amused to discover that his left ear twitched when he squinted his eyes. She'd noticed how his lips pursed when he was thinking through a problem. She had admired his sure, confident stride, and the way his back was so straight when he stood at attention.

Though Laura was annoyed with herself for acting like an adolescent and allowing lust to cloud her judgment, she shivered at the soulful desire in his eyes and the feel of electricity bouncing between them. She swallowed hard and told herself again, that if anything was seriously amiss with the commander, she would feel it.

And right now, all she felt was the heat of his hand holding hers, the warmth of his body standing so close.

"Commander," she began, her voice soft, "I thought we'd decided that this was a bad idea."

He gave her a dark look that was full of desire. His free hand reached out to rest on her hip. He leaned in but she stopped him with both hands on his chest.

"You know this will have consequences," she reminded gently.

Adama pulled her closer until both of his hands rested at the back of her waist and they were nearly hip-to-hip. "I know," he said huskily. He moved his hands back to her front, seeking the clasps that held her jacket together.

"But you don't care," she observed wryly as his hands skillfully unbuttoned her jacket. He slid it down her arms and carefully laid it across the back of her chair. His hands returned to her waist. His nearness was making her heart pound. Desire was settling over her like a hot blanket. But she had to give them one last try to stop. "We won't be able to take it back," she whispered earnestly.

His right hand came up and cupped her behind the neck. "Do you want this, Laura?" His voice was husky – sexy – and some nutty part of her mind wondered if that was how he got his call sign. But then almost all thought flew out of her head as he leaned in just until their noses were touching. "Do you want this?" he asked again.

She breathed in his breath and closed her eyes.

_Adama is a Cylon._ The voice was faint, nearly washed out by the rush of blood through her ears. Her hands clenched the open sides of his uniform jacket. _When had she opened his jacket? _Her body had a mind of its own. _Adama is a Cylon_. The voice was faint, so faint. It was all lies anyway. Couldn't she afford to ignore lies?

So she closed the final distance between them.

She placed a kiss chastely on his weathered cheek.

When she pulled back she saw the hurt and confusion shining in his eyes before he closed it off. She noted to herself how well he did that, shuttering his feelings. Three weeks ago, she had found his near stoicism jarring and it had grated on her nerves that he could be so emotionally remote at the end of the world. Now that she knew him better, she understood his emotional depth better. She suspected that the well of his emotions could be deep enough to drown the entire fleet if he let it. No wonder he closed himself off. She had been doing a little bit of that lately as well.

And so the president carefully extricated herself from her commander's arms. She took a step back, maintaining eye contact. And because she was looking into his eyes, she could see his transition from hurt to anger, mask notwithstanding.

"Did I miss something?" he asked tightly.

Laura took a deep breath. "I think that, this… whatever it is that has been going on between us, is a mistake."

His eyes narrowed. "A mistake?"

Laura winced at the chilliness of his voice. "You and I need to remain objective in all things concerning the fleet." She paused, suddenly unsure of herself at the hard look in his eyes. "A personal relationship between us can – a personal relationship between us could cloud our objectivity about each other."

She paused again, thinking that at this point he might say something. But he remained silent. Coldly silent.

Fighting the urge to shiver, Laura pressed on. "As you know, there are times when we're not on the same side of an issue. If we were personally involved, we might find it difficult to disagree –" She knew that was a lie as soon as she said it but at this point, she was grasping at whatever straw she could fathom.

Adama apparently wasn't impressed with her explanation, either, as his expression impossibly became even harder. Laura decided that it might be prudent to just stop talking.

"Are you finished?" he growled.

She nodded once.

"Then get out," he said and turned his back as if he couldn't bear to look at her any longer.

Laura flinched, stung by his demeanor but recognizing that while his dismissal had been gruff, it was no less damaging than her rambling, ridiculous verbal "Dear John". Briefly, she wondered if she'd made a mistake. She hadn't expected to hurt him. They'd both discussed the consequences of a relationship between them, even if it was purely physical one. They had both talked of how it was a bad idea, even before Leoben Conoy had planted his poison seed.

But then, they'd both flirted and tempted each other. Her mind flashed to his body behind hers holding her hand; to her hands running down over his chest; to the soft skin off his neck and shoulders … The line had been so tantalizingly close on so many occasions and she had to admit that they had come to an agreement of sorts to move forward, to get it out of their systems. She was breaking their accord and for that she felt sorry, for more reasons than she was comfortable with.

Laura looked at him now, his broad back straight and stiff. With a sigh, she retrieved her jacket from where he had laid it across the back of her chair. She snagged her glasses on her finger and turned and left his cabin without a word.

As her footsteps echoed through _Galactica's_ corridors, President Laura Roslin heard a voice in her ear. She tried to ignore it but the words came through anyway.

_Adama is a Cylon._

End. For now.


	6. Until the Summer Brings Us Back

Until the Summer Brings Us Back

Disclaimer: All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore, Larson and Universal and are used without permission.  
Pairing: Laura/Adama  
Rating: Teen (damned MPAA!)  
Spoilers: Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down. This takes place immediately after the episode.  
A/N: As with "Until Then" and "A Doubt onto Itself", I held this back until I'd seen the next episode.

* * *

She thought she was being surreptitious as she quietly slipped out of the lab, but Adama's eyes had been on her and he'd seen her attempt to sneak out without speaking to him.

Part of him considered letting her go. Over the past few days, Laura Roslin had proven that trust was not one of the things between them. They shared soul-crushing responsibility, a ton of lust, some respect and a lot of anger but not one damned ounce of trust.

He didn't want to admit it to himself but that fact hurt somehow. Somewhere over the past weeks, he'd found himself wanting her to trust him. But she had proven without a shadow of a doubt that she didn't. Oh, yes, he should just let her go.

But instead, he found himself murmuring a hurried good night to Tigh and his wife and rushing out of the lab after her. He looked left down the corridor, knowing she would go that way to get back to her ship, currently docked inside _Galactica_ to conserve fuel. She'd be moving fast, he reasoned, in case he went after her. So Adama turned right and ran through the corridors, taking passage after passage, until he was confident he was ahead of her. He stood at the juncture of two causeways and waited.

A few minutes later, he heard the rapid concussion of her high heel shoes bouncing off the metal walls and ceiling. He waited, musing that everyone on the ship could probably tell she was approaching by the sound of her footsteps. Not just the distinctive clicking of her heels but the rhythm of her gait; rapid and purposeful. She sounded like a woman with places to go. The sound grew louder and when she rounded the corner, he stepped out in front of her, halting her escape.

The President nearly skidded to a stop and her security detail startled a bit at the commander's sudden appearance.

He narrowed a steely look at her as she quickly recovered her composure.

"Going somewhere?"

"Back to my ship," she told him briskly.

"I'd like a word."

She attempted to step around him. "I don't have time –"

He blocked her again. "_Make_ time."

They stood for a long moment, staring at each other with growing hostility before the President relented. "Fine," she ground out between her clenched teeth and followed the commander the short distance to his cabin.

* * *

While they'd held an armistice in the corridor, all hell broke loose as soon as he'd secured the door to their privacy.

"You've been spying on me –"

"I was insuring that the Chief of the Military wasn't an enemy infiltrator –"

"Enemy infiltrator!"

"Yes."

"And you don't think that if I were a frakking Cylon that I would have blown all the civilian ships to hell by now? Shit, I would have left you all at Ragnar."

She sighed and averted her eyes. "You were behaving oddly," she said stiffly.

"You should have trusted me?"

"Why?" she demanded turning to face him quickly. "It's not like you've given me any reason to."

He looked at her incredulously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You should have told me about Ellen."

"And you should have told _me_ what the Cylon whispered in your ear," he said with sudden revelation. "That was it, wasn't it? He told you that I was a Cylon." When she didn't say anything, he glared at her. "I warned you. I told you that it would lie and deceive you and you wouldn't listen –"

"Fine, Commander!" the President yelled suddenly. "Fine! You were right. I was wrong. Poor stupid teacher got tricked by the enemy. I admit it. Are you happy now!"

He stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head. "No. I'm not happy."

She returned his look and they fell into a long silence as they stared into each other's eyes. Gradually, the anger seeped out of the room only to be replaced by an almost desperate tension.

"That was the reason," Laura said softly.

The commander nodded. Now that the fog had cleared, he understood her sudden rejection. A part of him was relieved that she'd pulled away from him. Not that he didn't want her still, but he wasn't sure what he would think of her if she'd been willing to sleep with him while suspecting that he might be the enemy. He was rapidly learning that she could have a ruthless streak two clicks wide but he didn't want to believe that she'd be that – well, slutty. Ellen, yes; Laura, no.

"Baltar says that my test results will be complete in the morning," he informed her as he unbuttoned the clasp at the neck of his uniform. "I've ordered him to test you next." He gave her a look that said that he was deadly serious.

He met his eyes unflinchingly. "I would expect nothing less, Commander," she told him.

Her voice seemed genuine and she reached up and pulled her glasses from her face. Now that her eyes were unhidden, he could see the regret. She would never say she was sorry, he knew it and wouldn't expect it. It wasn't because she was proud or stubborn; it was because she was justified. It was her job to protect the fleet, same as his. If there was a chance that there was a Cylon infiltrator in the fleet leadership, she had every right to ferret it out. However, her methods were suspect. The spying and meeting with his XO behind his back made him angry but he decided not to push it. They'd been pushing each other enough over the past couple of days.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked.

She nodded and he saw her relax marginally.

Moving to his small kitchen, he pulled a bottle and two glasses out of the cupboard. She was already sitting when he rejoined her. He gave her one of the glasses.

"Ambrosia?" she said with surprise. "How in the world did you manage to hide this from Ellen?"

Adama smiled. "It wasn't easy," he said, filling her glass. "I had to sneak it out of the stash she brought with her from the _Rising Star_."

"Stash?" Roslin said with a raised eyebrow. "How big of a stash?"

He capped the bottle and set it on the table. "Two bottles smaller than she thinks it is," he said settling back against the cushions.

"Do you think it's wise that she has a supply of alcohol?" the President asked carefully.

Adama knew where she was going with that and felt himself stiffen, ready to defend his friend. But just as quickly as the irritation came, he felt it dissipate because he had thought the exact same thing. That was the reason why he'd lightened Ellen's load; not just to enjoy the stuff himself, but to lessen the woman's influence on her husband.

"She's his wife," was all he said and took a sip of the sharp, slightly sweet liquor.

He felt Roslin's eyes on him but he didn't look at her. She stared at him for a long moment before he saw her settle back on the sofa and take a careful sip. This surprised him. He'd expected her to argue. He wondered if that meant she was willing to extend him that little bit of trust to make sure his XO didn't get completely out of control; or if she was simply tired of fighting with him for the day. Whichever it was, he was thankful. He was tired of fighting with her as well.

They drank in silence, the minutes ticking by into an hour, until the bottle was nearly empty and they were both leaning against the cushions staring at each other.

Adama was not only a soldier; he was Saul Tigh's best friend. Because of that, he had a decent alcohol tolerance. Right now, he was feeling relaxed; more relaxed than he'd felt in more days than he could count.

The woman sitting next to him, however, was drunk. He noted that Laura Roslin was Ellen Tigh's exact opposite, even while inebriated. She wasn't noisy and obnoxious. She'd sat quietly sipping her drink and when she was done, she'd put the glass on the table and collapsed against cushions. He only knew that she was intoxicated because her eyes were unfocussed and she couldn't seem to sit up straight.

In fact, she looked a little pale.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he sat up with some effort.

She blinked at him owlishly. After licking her lips, she whispered, "I don't think I should have had that to drink …"

He smiled at her. "It's fine. You're just a little drunk." Something occurred to him. "Do you feel sick?" Gods, he hoped not. He hadn't had to hold a drunk woman's hair back while she puked since the academy.

Thankfully, she shook her head. "Not sick." She closed her eyes. "Sleepy." Her words were slurring. "Doc told me not to drink … said the pills … not good."

Adama was confused. "Doc Cottle told you not to drink? Because of your medication? What medication?"

She struggled to stand suddenly and he had to catch her before she toppled over the table.

"Have to go back to ship," she muttered before she passed out cold in his arms.

* * *

For the second time in a month, William Adama found himself watching the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol while she slept.

After she'd passed out, he'd carried her to his bunk and covered her with his blankets. Once he had her down, he'd made a call and waited 10 minutes for Doc Cottle to arrive. When his medical officer came through the door, he gave Adama an annoyed look.

"How much did she drink?" the older man asked grumpily.

"Three or four glasses?" Adama spit back, glancing at the nearly empty bottle.

"How many was it, Commander? Three or four?"

Adama scowled. "I guess four."

Cottle shook his head and took up the President's wrist to check her pulse. "Damned foolish girl," he muttered. "I told you to be careful."

Adama watched silently as the doctor listened to Roslin's heart, checked her temperature and flashed a light into both of her eyes while holding her lids open with his thumb. He reached into his bag and pulled out a needle and a small vial. The commander watched carefully as the doctor drew the president's blood.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Just need to check some levels," was all the answer he got.

When Cottle was done, he packed up his equipment and handed the commander a small vial. "Make her take two of those when she wakes up and tell her I want to see her in Life Station tomorrow."

It wasn't until the major had gone when Adama realized that he'd just been charged with watching over her for the night. He glanced over at her again and shook his head as he picked up the phone and started making calls.

Now, nearly an hour later, Adama found himself tired and ready for bed. He'd already changed into some sweats in his small bathroom. But instead of heading to the sofa, he found himself sitting in a chair beside the bunk, with his hand resting on Laura Roslin's arm.

For as composed as she was when she was awake, tonight she was equally fidgety and restless in her sleep. She was still for only a few minutes at a time. She'd turned from one side to the other and then back again and now was sprawled across the bunk on her belly, her arms splayed out at odd angles. She was snoring softly and her mouth was ajar. With a grimace, Adama realized that she was probably drooling onto his pillow. He only thought about it for a second before he unceremoniously pulled the pillow from under her, causing her head to flop down hard on the bunk.

She grunted and turned again, this time onto her back. As she flipped over, her hand smacked him painfully on the nose. The tired, irritated part of him was angry but the pain faded quickly and he knew he probably deserved it anyway; if not for pulling the pillow, then most certainly for something else.

After the doctor had left, Adama's first call had been to Baltar, the only other person besides Cottle with the President's blood sample.

So as gently as he could, he untangled her legs from the covers and tucked her in as best he could before he took his slightly damp pillow and went to find rest on the sofa.

* * *

It was nearly morning when he heard the first distressed moan. He bolted from the sofa and frowned at what he found in his bed.

Laura was drenched in sweat; she was pale and panting and it looked like she was having one hell of a nightmare. Adama decided to wake her up before she started screaming or worse.

"Madame President," he said firmly. She frowned and moaned again. "Madame President. Laura!"

Her wild eyes snapped open and she bolted upright on the bunk. She looked about uncertainly until her gaze clashed with his and her look transformed from startled to something he couldn't fathom.

"Are you alright?" she asked shakily. "You're alive, you're ok."

Puzzled, Adama nodded and captured her shaking hands in his. "As far as I know, I'm fine," he told her reassuringly. "What about you?"

She closed her eyes and swallowed heavily, her hands clenched his tightly. "I'm … Gods, I feel like shit."

He chuckled and gently sat down on the bunk. "It's a hangover," he informed her.

She looked embarrassed and released his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"It was fine."

"No, it wasn't, but it's nice of you to say so. I'll be getting out of your hair now." She moved to get out of the bed, but he stopped her with a hand on her leg.

"There are some pills you're supposed to take," he told her, trying to ignore the soft loveliness of her skin.

"Pills?"

"Doc Cottle brought them over," he told her and rubbed her leg soothingly at her horrified expression. "Calm down. It's fine. When you passed out –"

"Passed out!" She covered her face with her hands.

"I called the doc because you said something about not drinking with your medication." He paused, not missing the fear that flashed in the eyes he could only see through her long fingers. "Cottle says to take these pills and see him in Life Station later."

Slowly, her hands lowered from her face and she eyed him warily.

With a sigh, Adama stood and tossed the pill bottle onto her lap. "He didn't tell me anything," he said softly. "A shower will make you feel better. Everything you need is in the bathroom."

Fingering the pill bottle, she looked uncertain. "I should get back …"

"Laura, take a shower. Billy knows where you are and has canceled your morning appointments. You've got a couple of hours before you need to be anywhere."

She looked surprised but nodded wearily. She stood on shaky legs. Her dignity, however, would not let her wobble for long and after the first tentative step, she was before him, confident as she could be with severe bed-head and a hangover. "Do I smell that bad?" she asked lightly.

"I've smelled worse," he returned and smiled when she squeezed his arm and disappeared into the bathroom.

"So the fuel situation is going critical."

Adama looked at her, turning away from the dishes he was putting away. "Yes. We're down to having enough tyllium for only three, maybe four more jumps."

The president nodded and ran her fingers through her still damp hair. "And we don't know where we can get more. The press is going to eat me alive when I tell them that one."

"You'll handle them," he said flatly. "You always do."

She cocked her head to the side and pulled her leg up to rest her heel on the edge of the chair. She was wearing a pair of regulation sweats he'd left for her in the bathroom. She looked … cute.

"Your test should be done soon," she said lightly.

"Ah, yes, and then you'll know if I'm a Cylon."

Laura frowned. "I know you're not a Cylon, Bill, I just – I'm not sure about a lot of things anymore."

"Such as?"

"You know, maybe Ellen is right. Maybe I'm not the right person to be leading the fleet."

"Now you're listening to Ellen Tigh? Sure you're not still drunk off your ass?" His voice held his amusement at that notion.

Laura laughed. "I see your point."

"So, such as?"

She smiled at him and shook her head. "Let me work it out on my own, ok?"

He was about to say something, but the phone rang.

Baltar's voice came over the line. "Commander Adama, I was looking for the President… Billy said that I might find her with you."

Adama turned towards the President. "It's for you."

She crossed the room to take the receiver from his hand. "Baltar?"

"Yeah."

"You should listen in." She put the receiver to her ear and tilted it so that he could lean in with his head next to hers. "Go ahead, doctor," she said.

"The results of Commander Adama's test are conclusive," Baltar said quickly. "He is most definitely _not_ a Cylon."

She let out a long sigh and leaned into the commander's chest almost imperceptibly. "Thank you, Dr. Baltar, that is good, good news. Please commence my test immediately."

"It's already underway, Madame President."

Of course, it was. "Thank you," she said and hung up.

Neither of them made a move, despite the fact that the line had disconnected and there was no longer any reason for them to stand so close. The tension between them now was different than it had been a week ago. The passion was still there, the desire still pulsing but now it was a much more restrained feeling; much less compulsive. Laura found that she missed the old feeling, the burning that she had allowed Leoben Conoy to nearly entirely extinguish.

"That was very foolish, you know." His voice was gruff in her ear and his breath whispered across her cheek. "If I had been a Cylon, I could have killed you as soon as he told you."

Laura shook her head. "If you were a Cylon, you had all night to kill me." She turned around to face him. Her nose brushed his slightly as he inclined her head to look into his eyes. "I'm thinking clearly now, Commander. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Something flared in his dark blue eyes, but before he could move or say a word, she stepped away and began gathering her things.

"I'll see you in eleven hours, Commander," she said and slipped quietly from the room.

End. For now.

* * *

A/N: The title comes from a song by Keri Noble called "A Piece of My Heart".

_I can hear us laughing  
I remember every part  
I've got everything we ever did  
It's tattooed on my heart  
But there's a colder wind coming in  
And blowing us apart  
Until the summer brings us back,  
You know you got a piece of my heart_


	7. Rekindle

Rekindle

Disclaimer: All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore, Larson and Universal and are used without permission.  
Pairing: Laura/Adama  
Rating: Teen (damned MPAA!)  
Spoilers: The Hand of God. This takes place a few hours after the episode.  
A/N: Obviously, I'm gearing up to something by posting these three in such rapid succession. I've been spoiled for the last 3 episodes of season one, so I've been purposely framing these stories knowing what's going to come. I wanted to get these three done before "Colonial Day" so that I can get the post-"Colonial Day" story posted prior to the season finale.

* * *

It had been much too long since the 45,000+ human refugees of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol had had reason to celebrate, so the successful, against-all-odds raid on the Cylon fuel base sparked a party as soon as _Galactica_ had rejoined the rest of the fleet. For the President and Commander, the jubilation was interrupted only by a press conference to relay some of the details of the raid to the fleet and outline the fuel refinery and distribution plans. Once the conference was over, the reporters had left Roslin and Adama to go get stories from the pilots and other crew involved in the operation.

Before Adama could leave _Colonial One_, the President stopped him.

"I didn't get a chance to say congratulations," she told him warmly as he led him back into her private rooms.

"Thank you, Madame President," he returned, his voice cordial.

She turned and leveled him with a long look. "Old habits? Need to know?"

He sighed. He'd known this was coming.

"Don't do that," she snapped unexpectedly.

His eyes narrowed and his rancor rose quickly, as it always did with this woman.

"Don't give that irritated little sigh like you know what I'm about to say."

"Then if you have something to say, say it," he spit out. "I'd like to get back to my crew."

"Fine. We're even."

"Even?"

"Yes, you got your little revenge by keeping me in the dark about the back door," she said, the anger at least, was seeping out of her voice. "I get it. I didn't trust you, so you didn't trust me."

"I'm not playing adolescent get-back-at-you games –"

"Aren't you?" She sighed and held up her hands to forestall any further argument from him. "Can we just –" She frowned and shook her head.

"Just what?" he asked gruffly.

She dropped her hands to her sides and looked at him. "You're not a Cylon. I'm not a Cylon. The fleet needs us both. They deserve better than what we've been giving them recently. Can we just dispense with the bullshit so that we can do better for them?"

He looked at her, really looked at her. He could see the overwhelming exhaustion that seemed to be seeping out of her pores. But he could also see her sincerity. Adama sighed and folded his hands behind his back. The games they played with each other were also weighing on him. There were enough problems to deal with without adding the manufactured ones to the top of the pile.

"Alright, Madame President," he began slowly. "No more bullshit." He reached out his hand.

"Thank you," she breathed and took his hand in a firm shake. After a moment, she gave him a warm smile that made his heart thump. "You did good today."

He nodded and averted his eyes, hoping that she wouldn't see how something as simple as her smile affected him.

"Everyone did good today," he amended.

The President continued to smile at him. "Bill, can't you just take the compliment and say thank you?" Her voice was teasing and light and he wondered when they had slipped into using each other's first names on a regular basis.

"Thank you," he returned softly.

"See? That was easy."

He smiled at her. "You're teasing me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's fun."

"Fun?"

"Mm-hmm. I do like to have fun, Commander."

"Doing what?"

"Oh, lots of things, like cooking and sailing and skiing." Her eyes sparkled with green mischief. "Oh, and sex is extraordinarily fun."

How one could choke on saliva when their mouth was instantly, totally dry was beyond him but that's exactly what Commander Adama did.

"Are you alright?" the President asked him sweetly.

"You're still teasing," he growled.

But she shook her head. "Oh, no." She leaned in and tapped the underside if his chin with her finger. "Now, I'm _flirting_. It's a completely different thing."

"How do you do that?" he asked with a laugh.

"Do what?"

"Make me go from wanting to shoot you to wanting to –" _Bend you over the table_, his mind supplied.

Laura grinned. "Wanting to … what, Commander?"

He looked at her for a long, long moment. It would be so easy and she was so tempting. They'd talked about their timing being horrible. Right now, they were together, they were alone and everyone was too distracted to notice their absence. It would be so easy just to take her up into his arms and do what to her what he wanted to do to her even at the height of his anger. It would be so easy to bathe himself in flowers…

But the timing still wasn't right. Not for him. To do this now, on the heels of everything that had just happened … it would seem like they were using sex to hide the fact that they still didn't completely trust each other. Adama wasn't such a sentimentalist that he couldn't frak a woman he didn't trust, but he didn't want to do that with _this_ woman. Something in him still desired her unconditional confidence more than he desired her body. And he wanted to trust her but he couldn't. Not completely. Not at this moment.

The commander sighed and held out his arm. She looked confused but took it anyway.

"May I escort you back to the party?" he said easily.

She blinked at him before she frowned and pulled her arm back. "I thought we were through with the games?" Her voice was chilly and Adama had to admit that a part of him found delight in the fact that she sounded as hurt as he had felt when she'd rejected him last week.

Still, at least wanted her to know that this wasn't an outright rejection, that the door was still open. He was just calling for a bit more caution.

Sometimes words weren't adequate enough to convey a feeling or a doubt, so he allowed them both one indulgence; hoping his newfound resolve was enough to keep things in check.

Before she could work herself fully into her temper, Adama pulled her to him, his hand rising to become lost in her hair, while his other arm stole around her back.

Her startled gasp parted her lips and he took advantage of it, capturing her mouth with his and claiming new territory with his tongue. He had once thought that when they finally came together, it would be a battle of sorts. He'd never wanted a woman with a will as strong as hers. But if there was a battle here, she quickly capitulated as she seemed to melt into his arms. Her mouth parted wider and she drew him in with her tongue stroking along his, with her arms wound around his shoulder and back, with the press of her hips against his.

Too late he realized his mistake; far from capitulation, her weapons were decimating his willpower with expert precision and Adama knew that he had to stop this now before he ended up on his back with her spectacular legs wrapped around his waist.

With a moan – and a final long taste of her mouth – Adama gently pulled away. He looked down at her and was struck by her beauty; the flush of her cheeks and her moist lips. He was momentarily spellbound. He had to close his eyes to the sight to obtain the will to take a crucial step away from her.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself captured in her gaze. He tried to convey everything he was feeling right now. He wanted her – Lords, did he want her – but now wanting wasn't enough. He needed more.

"Do you understand?" he managed to ask.

She licked her lips and nodded, still holding his eyes. "I'm sorry –"

"Don't be," he told her, taking her hand.

Again, she nodded. They stared at each other before she squeezed his hand and slid her hand up to his elbow.

"Would you escort me back to the party, Commander Adama?"

Folding her hand into his, he smiled. "It would be my pleasure, Madame President."

End. Until "Colonial Day"


	8. Downfall

Downfall

Disclaimer: All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore, Larson and Universal and are used without permission  
Pairing: Laura/Adama   
Rating: R for adult situations.  
Spoilers: Colonial Day. This takes place immediately after the episode.

A/N: Well, this one was a long time coming. I started it a couple of weeks before I saw the episode but had to rewrite it because I didn't particularly like the episode. Then I ditched the rewrite and ended up with this. I know this is one of the ones many folks have been waiting for, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. Many, many thanks to Vicky for recapping the episode for me that allowed me to at least start thinking about where this series was going with this story.

There is a "racier" version of this story on the LauraRoslinFanfic and crossposted to the BSGShippers yahoo groups.

* * *

"Don't take this the wrong way," the President began, "but you're a surprisingly good dancer." 

Commander Adama pulled her along through a fairly intricate set of steps. He grinned at her when they'd finished and were back to the gentle swaying from before.

"My grandmother taught me when I was a boy," he confided. "She always said 'a gentleman knows how to dance'."

She smiled at him. "A gentleman, a patriot … Commander, your talents are showing."

"Not all of them," he murmured with a roguish grin.

Laura laughed and shook her head. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

They twirled easily to the tinkering of the music. The other couples on the dance floor slid away to make room. "For letting me handle the Zarek situation."

"You said you could handle it and you did," he returned. "Besides, it gave me a chance to see things from your point of view for a change."

"From my point of view?"

The music wound down and a new song started, slower and more intimate. The lights dimmed and almost naturally, she stepped in closer to her dance partner and felt his arm slide fully around her waist. Now cheek-to-cheek, he could speak directly into her ear.

"I got to see how the professionals do it."

She chuckled against his shoulder. "And did you enjoy the show?"

"I have to say, you play the game masterfully," he told her. "I was surprised."

"Why?"

"I didn't expect you to have a taste for it."

She frowned and stiffened in his arms. "You sound like Wally."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "He was upset about your decision to go with Baltar."

It wasn't a question so she didn't bother to answer. Right now, she didn't want to think about Wally's anger or disillusionment. She had done what she needed to do to protect what was left of the Colonies from Tom Zarek. She didn't have the luxury of consideration of people's feelings. The kicker in all of this was that Zarek was right about a great many things and under some circumstances, she would have agreed with him. But barely fifty days after their entire civilization was almost wiped out, a mere month and half after their very species was nearly rendered extinct, was not the time to be thinking about anarchistic change. Zarek was right that they couldn't pretend that things were business as usual but there were other things that needed to be tended to first, such as staying one step ahead of the Cylons and finding the materials that they needed just to get by. They could entertain the nihilistic musings of a self-seeking terrorist once they knew if they'd have food to last the week.

"Still with me?" the commander enquired. She couldn't see his face but could hear the amusement in his voice.

"I _don't_ have a taste for it," Laura said suddenly. "I hate politics."

"I'm sure you do, _Madame President_." She could feel the rumble of suppressed laughter in his chest.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked through her own grin.

He leaned into her and spoke, his lips brushing her ear. "Wouldn't dream of it. So you hate politics. You're still very good at it."

"I'm not afraid to pull the trigger to get something I want, if that's what you mean." she told him. "It's not my first inclination, but I _will_ do it when I have to."

He paused in his movement and pulled back long enough to stare at her. His expression was almost troubled for a moment and she wondered if the edge that had crept into her voice had been too sharp. His gaze was probing and disarming and she had to fight the urge to look away from it. Instead, she lifted her chin with an air of defiance and was relieved when the intensity in his eyes gave way to amusement.

With a shake of his head, he pulled her back to him, closer this time so that she felt the press of him against her body from cheek to knee. His uniform was stiff and poked her in places, but underneath, his was warm and solid and so very alive.

Laura sighed and allowed her cheek to drop to his shoulder, not really caring how it might appear.

"And what if it's some_one_ you want," Adama whispered, almost too low for her to hear.

She nearly missed a step at the sudden flash of excitement that gripped her. It had been nearly a week since he'd kissed her on _Colonial One_. It was a moment that had not been repeated nor spoken of since, but Laura could swear she could still taste him; still feel his tongue sliding between her lips; still feel the hardness of him pressing against her as his hands pulled her close.

But he'd backed away from her then and had actually seemed to be trying not to spend any time alone with her. He'd canceled one of their bi-daily meetings and had had Tigh sit in on the other one. To some extent, she understood his sudden caution. Something was changing between them, morphing this _thing_, this attraction, into something else. She didn't try to name it – didn't _want_ to name it – but things were most definitely different than they had been.

Before his husky whisper into her ear, she had thought that perhaps they'd waited too long and had let the opportunity pass quietly away. But now, it seemed that maybe, just maybe they'd finally worked out their abominable timing.

She nuzzled her face a little closer and said, "Ah, but he would have to be willing."

Now it was his turn to miss a step and Laura found herself smiling that she'd finally managed to rattle his unflappable cool. It didn't take him long, though, to recover. He was Commander Adama after all.

"And if he were willing?"

She closed her eyes and gave herself one last moment to assess, to think it through. Throughout her life, she'd never been particularly apt to jump from relationship to relationship; from man to man. There had been two men that she'd loved down to her soul. There had been a close friend who was sometimes her lover when neither of them was attached to anyone else. There had been perhaps a dozen flings with men who'd caught her fancy long enough to learn that they had nothing to offer her when they weren't in bed. And there had been a single one-night-stand with a man who later became her friend.

All of those men from before were lost to her now; all of them were dead, except for the one that she'd saved from Cylon nukes only to mangle with politics. Laura had never regretted that one night with Wally Grey until today when she'd named Gaius Baltar as her Vice President.

She did not want William Adama to become another regret. She knew that he could be her greatest mistake. This had probably already gone too far as it is. But she was also coming to the end of her resistance. Never in her entire life had Laura felt so completely drawn to a man. Even the ones she had loved hadn't pulled her in like this so fast. There had to be something about him, something about the situation compelling them to be together, she reasoned. Maybe it was being faced with her own mortality in such an immediate way that made her want to grasp onto something to make her feel alive. Maybe –

Laura's eyes snapped open and she stopped herself. She was over-thinking again when it was time to simply _feel_. There would be consequences, she could feel that with indubitable clarity. And she was almost certain that somehow, William Adama would be her downfall. But right now, within the warm bands of his arms, it seemed like a reasonable chance to take for the opportunity to _feel_ after so long.

"If he was willing," she whispered huskily, "then he should offer me his arm and escort me back to his ship."

His steps slowed to a stop and even though they were in the middle of a song, in the middle of the dance floor, in the middle of a celebration, in the middle of the end of the world, he pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. Her breath left her in a rush at the potent intensity in his expression. If she could think, she might have wondered if anyone was watching them; if anyone could see or feel the shifting of something powerful. Could they feel the weight of the decision made? Did they know that the course could now not be changed?

For the second time tonight, he offered her his arm. This time, when she took it, she nearly stumbled at the visions that filled her mind; her skin sliding along his; his mouth against her breast; her hands in his hair; his thighs between her own. It was as inevitable as it was irrevocable. And Laura couldn't help but smile in anticipation as he led her down the path of no return.

* * *

On the shuttle back to _Galactica_, neither Commander Adama nor President Roslin said a word. They were not alone. Her guards sat quietly to her side, chatting amiably to each other; their conversation and the pilot's wireless chatter the only noise breaking the silence. 

He chanced a look in her direction. She sat composed as ever, back ramrod straight and barely touching the cushion. He could see the tension in the lines of her shoulders and in the subtle twitching of her hands as they rested on her lap. But when he looked at her face, she gave him a slow, sexy smile and his heart pounded beneath the medals on his chest.

Adama knew that this was probably a bad idea. He'd wrestled with it for long enough to realize that he'd made a mistake. He had never been a man to fall easily. He'd had his share of conquests with women who had "loved" him for the allure of being with a viper pilot on a command track but he'd only been in love once in all of his life.

Caroline had pursued him and he'd let her catch him because she was beautiful and exciting and he had been ready to settle down. His love for her had come a little later, after he was already committed to her but before they'd gotten married. He remembered that she asked him on the eve of their wedding if he really loved her and he'd felt ashamed that until the moment she asked, he hadn't been sure.

But he had loved Caroline; just not well enough. And when she finally got tired of coming in second to his career, she kissed his cheek and left. He still admired her in many ways. She put up with a lot over the course of 20 years and had given him his sons. For that, he had always loved her even if it was just a little.

After the divorce, there had been a few women here and there, mostly for something to do or to scratch the occasional itch but none of them had consumed him or challenged him or made him _want._

Until a president walked onto his ship and set him aflame.

It wasn't just her beauty that drew him in or her personal sense of presence that made her occupy his thoughts. She was a powerful woman and not just because of the office she held. She was incredibly self-aware and exuded the confidence of a person who knows exactly who she was. And she was unapologetic about herself with a "take me or leave me" air. She wouldn't change herself to suit others and she may bend when pushed hard but she would never break. She had proven that to him time and time again over the past six weeks of their tempestuous partnership in running the fleet. And today, Tom Zarek had learned the same lesson Adama himself had early on: underestimating her in any way was an error you didn't want to repeat too often.

Adama had to admit that Laura Roslin wasn't usually a woman that would attract him. She was strong-willed, bordering on stubborn and she wasn't above manipulation as a means to an end. While he would stop short of calling her a liar, she was a politician and could mask dishonesty with the best of them. To his knowledge, she'd never intentionally lied to him but she had secrets that she guarded heavily and he had apparently not yet gained enough of her trust to even get a sniff of them.

Roslin was also very adept at closing herself off. She could shut her emotions down like flipping a switch, something that Adama found irritating. He could never get a bead on what she was feeling because she wouldn't show it. He did have to acknowledge, however, that this was a main complaint that Caroline had had about _him_. If his ex-wife had found this as maddening as he did in Laura Roslin, he thought no wonder she divorced him.

Because of these traits, the president was also a challenging person to get to know. Every time he felt that they had progressed to a point where they could talk – _really_ talk – to each other, she backed away; often giving him that politician's line of bull that left him feeling hollow and cold. But then just as frequently, she might smile at him or say something with just the right inflection and expression that he felt himself slipping further and further.

He barely knew her; he barely liked her most of the time, but he had stopped lying to himself that he wasn't falling in love with her. She wasn't the only one who could do self-aware and Adama reasoned that acknowledging his own mistake of feeling too much for a woman he wasn't even sure he could trust would serve him better in the long run if things went horribly wrong.

And if things went right and she began to feel the same, well, that was all the better.

His rumination carried him through the docking of the shuttle and now she stood close to him, waiting for her security detail to give the all-clear. Again, he offered her his arm and she slipped her hand around his elbow with a wan smile that he returned. He found himself feeling nervous as he escorted her through _Galactica's_ quiet corridors to his cabin. It had been a while for him and he didn't want to disappoint her. He thought that maybe he should offer her a drink but then remembered how badly alcohol had mixed with whatever medication she was taking. The last thing he wanted tonight was for her to pass out on him.

They crossed the threshold to his cabin and he secured the hatch behind them, locking them in. There would be no interruptions tonight.

When Adama turned from the door, his eyes found her and he gave a laugh. She had already kicked out of her shoes and discarded her jacket. She was now pulling her blouse from where it had been tucked neatly into her skirt.

"Eager?" he teased.

"_Ready_," she shot back and then grinned at him as his eyes followed her fingers down the buttons of her blouse.

"Should I help you with that?" he asked, feeling himself heating with anticipation. Whatever nerves he'd felt only a few minutes before were being chased away by the tightening in his groin at the sight of her.

Laura cocked her head to the side, her hair sliding down her shoulder in a silky auburn wave. "You could." She dropped her hands to her hips, her blousing hanging open just enough for him to see the skin of her flat stomach and the clasp of her black bra. Her green eyes danced and smoldered as they perused him from head to toe unabashedly. "Or you could reciprocate."

Her voice was deepening and she stood there waiting for him to accept the challenge.

With a smile, he removed his sash and undid the clasps of his dress jacket. Swiftly, he slid it down his arms and folded it neatly over the back of a chair. In his undershirt and pants, he sat down and removed his shoes and socks and placed them neatly by the sofa.

When he sat back up, he noticed that she had moved closer to stand in front of him as he sat in the chair. He looked up to find her looking down at him, her hair framing her face as she gave him a look full of such affection … For a moment, he could see something behind her eyes, deep feelings for him and he felt glad that he had waited until they were really ready for this. He couldn't imagine making love with this woman without _feeling _it. It seemed so right now that he couldn't suppress his sigh of relief.

He reached out and pulled her to him so that his lips could kiss the soft skin of her stomach. The scent of flowers was at the same time subtle and pervasive and he allowed his hands to circle her hips to cup her firm backside in his palms. Laura sighed and her fingers settled in his hair, stroking and soothing; simultaneously arousing and comforting.

Adama lowered his hands down the backs of her thighs until he reached the hem of her skirt. He slipped underneath and touched her bare legs. Moving up so slowly and raining kisses onto her belly, he skimmed her thighs, raising the skirt until he felt the soft lacy fabric of her panties. Gently, he hooked his fingers on the sides and pulled them down her legs until she obliged him by stepping out of them with a soft moan.

Something about her now made Adama burn with urgency. Whether it was the sexy sound that had escaped her throat or the fact that she stood before him naked under her skirt, _something_ made his need explode through his body. He couldn't wait any longer.

He stood suddenly, hard and aching and looked down into her eyes.

"Bill," she whispered, gasped and her hands came up to frame his face. She was trembling and he forced himself to calm down enough to find out if she was ready.

"Laura," he began, "I want –"

But she didn't let him finish his sentence as her mouth crashed into his and she was kissing him deeply. Her tongue invaded his mouth and she moaned again as his hands reached up to cup both of her breasts.

He found them to be a perfect fit for his hands and he ran his thumbs along the swells of softness spilling out of the top of her bra. Breaking the kiss, he bent down and tasted a bit of that flesh, sucking and nibbling. He knew he was marking her and it made him burn all the more, knowing that tomorrow under her suit, she would bear his mark. For as long as it stayed blazoned on her skin, she was his.

"Yes," Laura hissed, with her head thrown back. It was almost as if she'd heard his thoughts because he pulled his head closer, encouraging him to bite harder. So he sucked hard and long until a faint taste of copper touched his tongue. She hissed again, her fingers pulling his hair and he licked the painful spot on her breast to soothe it before he pulled back enough to look at his handiwork. It was deep purple and almost angry-looking but it made his erection jump wildly in his pants as a primal instinct in him sang at the sight of it.

She was his until it faded and from the looks of it, that would take days.

He smiled ferociously and pulled her back to him, claiming her mouth roughly. He felt gratified and excited that she gave as good as she got and he felt her teeth nip at his lip and her hands tug sharply at his undershirt, yanking it up until he was forced to pull back for her to draw it over his head.

Her nails raked down his chest, combing through the light covering of hair, as her lips, teeth and tongue explored his neck. Bill knew that he couldn't take much more of this. The need was too great, too sharp and too urgent. He felt like he could explode through his pants at any moment.

As gently as he could, he pulled her head away from his throat with his fingers wound in her hair. He groaned at the dark look in her eyes.

"I need you now," he whispered and she nodded immediately.

They shed the rest of their clothes quickly and he guided them down onto his bed. He kissed her again, deep and long and felt her legs rise around his waist and when they finally joined together, her name exploded out of him and he felt so much in that moment, that he almost made the devastating mistake of revealing his heart. He kissed her to keep the damning words from being spoken and groaned as his hips finally met hers.

* * *

Laura was fighting not to fly apart at the completeness she felt. Tears welled in her eyes and she was grateful that he started kissing her fervently and did not see. 

As she had suspected, their lovemaking this first time was almost frantic. They had been building up to this for so long that she couldn't contain her pleasure and soon felt herself at her peak. His hands clenched at her hips until he cried out softly, a vulnerable, almost heart-breaking sound in her ear as he too succumbed to the feeling. She felt him throb as the released himself and rode the final waves of her own pleasure as she listened to his ragged breathing.

He collapsed slightly onto her before catching himself and rolling them over onto their sides. Panting, Laura buried her head into the niche between his chin and his shoulder. The combined smell of their sweat and other bodily fluids comforted her as she ran her fingers gently over the scratches she'd inflicted on his back and sides.

His hands combed through her sweaty hair gently as his breathing began to even out. He shifted his hips slightly and slipped away. She smiled slightly and leaned in to place a kiss at the base of his neck.

She was glad that he didn't seem to want to talk right now. Instead, he seemed content to simply hold her and be held by her in silence. It seemed appropriate somehow that with how much they had actually talked about doing this, that they would be quiet now that it was done.

Regardless, it was nice to just _feel_ and to be in his arms and feel safe and warm and wanted. And exhausted. Laura fought to stay awake but the languid contentment spreading through her limbs made her feel so sleepy. She tried vainly to stay awake and hold onto this incredible moment but her eyes disobeyed her command and closed anyway.

* * *

She awoke sometime later to the feel of his hand drawing her thigh up over his hip. Without opening her eyes, she found his mouth and his intense, open kiss rekindled the fire inside her. 

They re-joined with a comforting ease and rocked in a slow, languorous rhythm, hip to hip, mouth to mouth. The urgency had been slaked and now they took their time. She learned that if she rolled her hips slightly as she tightened that it made his breath catch and his hands clench at her flesh. He learned that she didn't like sharp thrusts, but seemed to come apart at slow, deep ones. His nipples were sensitive to her fingers and she liked when he held her tightly, almost roughly against him.

And still they kissed, tongues dancing across teeth and lips as they shared breath.

It seemed like forever, this slow torture to their mating. The ebb and flow of their movements was as natural as breathing until finally he sobbed out her name and came deep inside her. His arms crushed her to him and the pressure of his embrace, the very possessiveness of it, pushed her over the edge and she heard her own cry join with his sighs of pleasure.

* * *

They slept again and this time it was she who woke him with her gentle stroking and lazy, wet kisses to his chest. This time, their loving was playful as he sat up and pulled her astride him. He could look into her eyes as she slid along his lap. He licked the sweaty skin at the base of her throat as she threw her head back while she rode him. Her pace was erratic; sometimes slow and sometimes frantic as she took her pleasure without reservation. He tickled her ribs just as she reached orgasm and her cries and laughter melded into such a joyous sound that he found himself pulling her down onto himself tightly as he came again, feeling happier than he had in many, many years.

They rested for a while until she looked at the clock. 0415. She sighed.

"You need to go," he said quietly, his hands soothing her back.

Laura nodded. "I don't want to." She kissed him softly. "But spending the night here once can be explained away. Twice …"

He grinned. "People will think we're sleeping together or something."

She laughed and twisted down to suck at his nipple. "Can't have that."

Adama groaned and pulled her back up to look at her mischievous face. "Thought you had to go?"

She leaned in and kissed him. "I do. I know. I'll be good."

He doubted that but didn't say so. "Would you like a shower?"

She stretched and gave him a sultry look. "Will you be joining me?"

He laughed and leaned down to kiss her. He loved kissing her. "Maybe you should go by yourself," he murmured against her lips, "if you actually want to get clean."

She pulled back and pouted. "Spoil sport."

He shook his head and eyed her appreciatively as she flipped back the covers and stood naked by the bed. She looked incredibly sexy with her mussed hair and glowing skin. "You'll find everything you need in the bathroom," he told her.

"No, I find everything I need right here," she said looking deep into his eyes. After moment, she smiled again and sauntered away into the bathroom, leaving him confused and wanting.

He didn't know exactly what her last comment meant but he decided it didn't matter right now. They hadn't talked about what would happen tomorrow when they couldn't be just Bill and Laura in his bed but had to be the Commander and the President in front of the fleet. They hadn't even talked about if this would be something that was repeated. Again, he decided that it didn't matter right now.

What did matter was that this stolen moment in time was coming to an end and as he heard the shower start, he realized that they could afford a few more seconds for themselves.

She had, after all, issued the invitation.

He climbed out of the bed with a devilish grin and joined her in the shower.

* * *

End. Until Kobol's Last Gleaming. 


	9. The Will of the Gods

The Will of the Gods

Disclaimer: All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore, Larson and Universal and are used without permission.  
Pairing: Laura/Adama  
Rating: Teen  
Archive: FFN and Colonial One. Elsewhere not without permission.  
Spoilers: KLG2. This takes place immediately after the episode. This is the final story of the "Interludes and Encounters" series.

* * *

They had made love in the shower.

It had been slow and intense; sexy and sweet. The slickness of skin sliding on water had burned its way onto her memory and the sound of his soft cries of passion still echoed in her ears.

Laura thought back upon the last fifty-one days. They had danced and not just on Colonial Day. Part of her had known it was inevitable and she had suspected Adama had known it, too. It had probably started that day in his cabin, after his speech to his crew and the rest of the fleet, where he'd made the deleterious mistake of promising Earth and she had made the equally ruinous miscalculation of relinquishing control of the military. They had both been thinking short-term on that day. He hadn't thought much past giving enough hope to the fleet to get them through the immediate crisis and she hadn't considered much past establishing some type of balance of power with him.

It had been error compounded by error and because neither of them had known how steep a price they would have to pay, they had danced.

The attraction would have been something to easily ignore, Laura knew. She had done it before with other would-be lovers. One simply pretended not to be drawn, refused to imagine the possibilities and controlled the incessant pounding of the heart. She knew that. But that was not what she did with William Adama.

When he seemed to share the attraction, instead of wisely disregarding it, she had indulged in it. She flirted and teased and followed him to the brink and backed away. And then she'd talked herself into ignoring not the attraction but the _consequences_ and followed him over a cliff of disaster.

And it had been _good_. She had felt deep, diffusive passion in Adama's arms. It went beyond the diminishing confines of her body. Moreso than her visions, in his arms, she had felt close to the Gods. She had felt _powerful_.

But it had been transitory. And after the lust had faded, she remembered her place and his place and the fate that she guarded so closely that she could not – would not – share it with him even as she allowed him into her body.

Sex had been an easy intimacy; it was death that she found too personal and because of it, she had not allowed herself to love him when she knew that she could have.

After that last indulgence in the cramped shower, they'd dressed and she made her way discreetly back to her ship at 0500.

That was just this morning.

Every inch of her still ached and tingled from his hands, his tongue, and his body inside hers. The mark from his mouth was still livid upon her skin. It was at her left breast, just above the tumor that was ending her life, stealing her choice to step cautiously and persuasively. She thought it was somehow fitting that he had unwittingly chosen _that_ spot to brand her as temporarily his.

His mark. Her lover.

And now, her jailer.

Laura stood in her cell in _Galactica's _brig, his footsteps fading away like the sound of heartbeats, but could not bring herself to regret.

She was long past the point of excuses. Her choices had been her own and she _had_ known the possible – probable - outcome. If her visions were to be believed and trusted, she had known how this could end.

Her choices had been her own, up to and including following William Adama to his bed. She had known it was probably a mistake. She had known the consequences would be severe. She had known that at the end of the day, they were just too different to make anything work between them, even for the very short amount of time she had left.

But still, she could not regret.

Laura wondered dimly if that was because she was determined not to believe that she had pushed perhaps too far. Was it easier to accept that going to his bed had been a part of the Cycle … that she was fulfilling destiny with her body and not just with her death? Was it just that she did not want to believe that she had welcomed him into her arms because she felt something for him; that she knew what he felt for her and had grasped at the chance to be wanted and loved just one last time?

Earlier, she had told Billy that the Gods seemed to have a plan. Her conviction to believe in that plan had led her to this cell. She knew it was a delusion of denial that her indiscretion/affair/mistake with William Adama had been part of divine calculation, but she found herself embracing it anyway because it was the only thing that absolved her of guilt and shielded her from the regret.

Except, if she had not gone to his bed last night, she might not be standing in his jail today.

But that was also part of the plan of the Lords of Kobol, if her visions were to be believed.

Laura stopped herself. There was no sense second-guessing herself now. It was done. Now she would deal with the consequences.

And accept the will of the Gods.

The dream had come back to her almost immediately after he'd ordered the cell door closed between them. She'd fought not to flinch at the flash of him across her inner sight. He was lying in light; he was lying in blood.

That other night in his bed, days and days ago, she'd dreamed of this. But then, when she'd awoken sweating and shaken, he had been there in front of her in the dimly lit room. He had been blessedly whole. He had been fine.

She had wanted to warn him about the faceless danger. She wanted to tell him what was coming. No matter what had happened between them, she had never wished him harm. She did not love him, but she would never hate him. She wanted to warn him.

_Didn't she?_

She felt it vaguely; a whisper of pain in her abdomen that quickly melted into warmth and faded. Seconds later, she felt another low in her chest. She strained to hold onto the memory, to the vision, but it was faded and muted like the sound of a conversation through a wall that was too thick.

Laura closed her eyes as the alarms reverberated throughout the ship. No one needed to tell the president what had happened. It was destiny.

And she had wanted to warn him.

She bowed her head so that the Gods could not see her doubts or her tears.

The End.

* * *

A/N: 4/21/05 – My intention with this series was to write plausible "filler" to complement my vision of what was happening on-screen, as seen through shippy-glasses. From episode to episode, I wanted what was happening on-screen to still be plausible in the context of my stories, so I wrote around the canon, framing and re-framing as I went to keep the series as tied closely to the episodes as possible. What I didn't want was to create events in the stories that would immediately be blown to hell in the next on-screen episode. For instance, I couldn't have Laura too trusting of Adama after "Flesh and Bone," when "TMUTMD" comes around and she's still suspecting him. It didn't make sense for this series of stories. I wanted to follow canon (and my digestion is just fine).

The likelihood of me writing more A/R fan fiction is small. That is for two reasons: first, I did NOT like KLG and I make no secret that I have fallen out of love with the Adama character. It's kind of hard to write shippy fanfiction about a character that you find disappointing, so unless something happens on the show to redeem him _in my eyes_, I probably won't be featuring him as leading man in my stories; and second, I'm mom to a toddler; I have a house, a husband, and a full-time job that is becoming increasingly demanding. I had a brief time where I dedicated probably too much time to this fandom but real life has firmly re-asserted itself as priority. That's the truth of it and if you've heard otherwise, someone didn't have their facts correct.

I've been holding this fic back for about 2 weeks trying to figure out if I liked it or not and if it was the right tone for a semi-satisfying, if not bittersweet, end to this series. I had setup back in "Till the Summer Brings Us Back" the fact that she may have foreseen his shooting but I became intrigued with the idea that she could have warned him but chose not to based on faith. Just how deep is her conviction? Just how far would she or could she go and who and how much would she sacrifice in her quest to guide the Fleet to salvation? In the end, are Laura and Adama really the same person (see his actions in "You Can't Go Home Again"), except she has a bigger and broader vision? Or are they both just nuts? That's for you to decide.

I sincerely hope you have enjoyed this brief journey and many thanks to those of you who have told me you liked it in reviews. I will probably write a Roslin story here and there (because she's my girl!), as life permits but until then, it's been a pleasure.

Monica


End file.
